


Royal Is As Royal Does

by Kiromenanz



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9815675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiromenanz/pseuds/Kiromenanz
Summary: Once upon a time in a kingdom far far away, Prince Arthur was throwing a ball and inviting all eligible ladies of Camelot to come and vie for his attention. Well, technically his parents were throwing the ball. And you really can't blame Arthur for going ahead and falling for the servant boy instead.Alternative title: Teal is the color of love.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Narlth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narlth/gifts).



> Dear Narlth – when I realised you were my giftee I have to admit I was both slightly intimidated and excited. Unfortunately, life made it super hard for me to get coherent words on a page, but I did my best with what I had. Hopefully what I came up with will make you smile and give you lots of valentine-y feelings :) 
> 
> Rated T for some minor swearing and also a boner is mentioned. If you really look for them, you can also find bad innuendoes in unlikely places.

“We’re having a _what_?”

King Uther gesticulated in a way that was surprisingly incoherent. “A ball. It’s a dance where a large group of people come together to–”

“I know what a _ball_ is!” Arthur exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. His father’s incoherent gestures were apparently catching.

“Just saying, you seemed confused. Your mother thinks–”

Ygraine’s head snapped up from where she’d just neatly taken the butler’s knight. “Oh no no no, don’t drag me into this! I justsaid _You_ _know, since he’s turning twenty now maybe we should do something special_ . I wasn’t the one who suggested a matchmaking ball.”

“A _what_?” Arthur yelled.

Ygraine gave him a warning glare when his volume startled the poor butler so much that he almost knocked down his own king. “Indoor voices, sweetheart.”

“Listen, Arthur, I know you are aware of the importance of your position and the responsibilities that come with it, and this is unfortunately one of them. Since you are doing so well in your lessons and in assisting me with court issues, marrying is just the next step really.” Uther gave his son a hard look. “It’s logical.”

“Don’t make it sound so romantic,” Ygraine murmured from her position by the fireplace, “Or he won’t be able to wait till next week.”

“Next _week_?”

Arthur was starting to feel like one of his cousin Morgana’s parrots.

“Really, son, stop acting like we just told you we’d send you into battle with nothing but a sword made of straw and your underwear. It’s just a social event. You dance with some people, you make some conversation, and if an engagement comes out of it so much the better.”

Arthur shook his head. “I can’t get engaged to some girl I just met at a ball that same day! This is ridiculous, mother!”

Ygraine turned away from the chessboard for a second and smiled at him. “It’ll all be fine, you will see. Like your father said, it’s just a social event. Let’s just see what will happen, hm?”

Arthur spluttered. “But–”

Ygraine’s dainty fingers carefully maneuvered her rook forwards, knocking aside the queen with sure movements. “Check.”

 

When Prince Arthur’s Birthday Ball was announced, Merlin was buried under a veritable mountain of boxes. Not literally of course, though if you asked Merlin, whether it as literal or not did not make a difference at all.

Then of course, nobody ever _asked_ Merlin. That was the whole point. No, Merlin was _told_.

“Merlin! What are you dilly-dallying for, we have ballgowns to buy!”

Merlin groaned and staggered to his feet, already weighed down by boxes upon boxes of shopping. “Coming.”

He, predictably, followed his stepmother and stepsisters to the seamstress, where he found them in the midst of a debate on whether or not teal made Vivian look gaunt.

“It’s just not your colour,” Nimueh was saying, “it’s too vibrant. Now, on Sophia on the other hand–”

“Sophia could never wear teal!” Vivian interjected hotly, “it clashes!”

Sophia turned from where she’d been admiring a display of dark red velvet and rolled her eyes. “Clashes with what, exactly, dearest?”

“Sorry,” Merlin said, a little out of breath “late to the party. Why exactly does anyone have to wear teal?”

Sophia rolled her eyes again. Merlin wondered whether doing that on a regular basis didn’t give her a headache. Even Vivian looked annoyed.

“Because it’s the prince’s favourite colour, idiot.” Nimueh said, studying her reflection in the shopwindow. “Everyone knows that.”

Merlin frowned, thinking back to the one time that he’d spied Prince Arthur on the castle balcony when he’d probably been about ten years old. “Really? Because I thought it was _your_ favourite–”

She interrupted him with a negligent hand gesture. “Either way, both of my girls would look absolutely stunning in it Thursday.”

Merlin carefully stacked the boxes (stuffed to the brim with hats, trims, bonnets, shoes and fans) on top of a chair standing next to a display case. “Thursday?”

Nimueh sharply slapped her fan closed against the palm of her hand. “The prince’s ball!”

“Ball?” Merlin repeated. “What–”

“A _ball_ . You know, a social event where there’s dancing and, oh wait, _you’re not invited_ .” Sophia said it as if she expected Merlin to cry into his pillow at night knowing this information.

“Tough,” he said and studied them. “So you’re getting gowns made for that ball? Don’t you already have a lot of them?”

Vivian turned around to her so abruptly her perfect blonde strands went flying. “You’re talking a lot today.”

Taking his cue Merlin turned back to the boxes, making sure that they were secure and in no danger of toppling over as the sisters and their mother debated dress cuts. He didn’t pay much attention to the discussion. After all, it had nothing to do with him.

 

Thursday night, as his starched collar was digging into his neck and Gaius was fussing with Merlin’s necktie, Merlin reflected that really, if he’d known this was coming, he’d have locked himself into his room.

“I don’t understand why you insist I go there,” Merlin said for the umpteenth time, chewing on his bottom lip. “I’m not even a servant.”

“You should tell that to your stepmother,” Gaius retorted and sighed. “I give up, I cannot believe this is the best necktie you have.”

“So sorry,” Merlin snarked, “if I’d known I’d be sneaking into the palace today to fill in for your useless toad of a nephew, I’d have bought a better necktie for it!”

Gaius gave him a look that was both quelling and slightly apologetic. “And remember – no one can know it’s you. I don’t want Gilli to lose his sixth job this year before he’s even properly started it because he was out seeking fortune again.”

Merlin tugged at the waistcoat Gaius had forced him into. It was a little too tight and midnight black. “You should’ve told _him_ that. Who disappears before their first day on the job? And people say working in the palace is actually the kind of job you’d be happy about having!”

Gaius looked slightly constipated. “I will have a stern word with him once he’s back, trust me.”

Merlin grinned. “Will you use the eyebrows?”

Gaius glared at him.

“You should use the eyebrows.”

Gaius turned Merlin around with a firm grip and shoved him towards the door. “Away with you, you silly boy. And do try to be back before Nimueh and her girls are, I don’t feel like explaining to them where you’ve gone if they return and don’t find you here.”

Merlin shrugged on his jacket, a little too tight just as the waistcoat was. Both of them had been made for Gilli, who was of even slighter build than Merlin.

“Oh and Merlin? Don’t get into too much trouble.”

Merlin gasped theatrically. “Me? Trouble? Never!”

Gaius just rolled his eyes and gave Merlin one last shove out the door.

 

It turned out walking straight into the palace was a piece of cake provided one wore the right outfit.

“This is ridiculous,” Merlin muttered as he walked past two guards who didn’t even glance at him, “their security is shit. I could be a serial killer.”

“I wouldn’t say that too loudly if I were you.”

Merlin started, his head whipping around. The girl who had spoken was wearing a dark blue dress and a smile. Her hair was elaborately piled into a complicated construction at the top of her head, and long, tinkling silver earrings were dangling from her ears.

Merlin’s mouth opened and closed without a good excuse coming out of it. He felt a little betrayed. “I– uhm…”

The girl laughed. “No worries, you seem harmless to me.” She held out her hand. “I’m Gwen.”

It had been years since Merlin had been required to perform a passable kiss on a woman’s hand. Even back then, _passable_ had been the key word.

Instead, he just shook the hand offered. The girl smiled.

“I’m Me– Gilli. I’m Gilli. That’s me. I’ll be serving you tonight.”

“Nice to meet you Gilli. Then let’s go in, shall we?”

She held out her hand. It took Merlin a few seconds to realise she meant to take his arm. He stuck it out and she took it, smiling all the while.

They walked into the ballroom together, which was distinctly less awkward than trying not to look suspicious and making his way all on his own. Still, when they finally reached the huge room, chandeliers as big as Merlin’s cupboard dangling down from its ceiling and still being too high up for him to each even if he had a ladder, he was momentarily struck speechless.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Gwen was whispering and despite the all around chatter resounding from the colourfully painted walls, it seemed like an appropriate instinct to Merlin. The room, the whole decor was awe-inspiring.

“It’s… something.”

Gwen flashed him a grin. “Come on, I think the servants are that way. Let me stick to you, I feel like you’re a good deal more sensible than most people in this room.”

Since they were passing a girl who was from head to toe enveloped in bright turquoise tulle Merlin didn’t contradict her. Instead, he kept his head down. There were hundreds of people in this room, but with his luck he’d definitely run into Vivian, Sophia or even Nimueh at some point.

Gwen was right about the other servants. She stood back while Merlin was quickly given his instructions by a strict-looking man with very bad breath. When he finally got to escape, she was waiting for him in an alcove, sipping on a glass of wine.

“Now, let me give you the gossip on everyone in this room,” she said, “I haven’t had someone to judge everyone with since they shipped Princess Morgana off to isolation because she was caught with that General.”

Merlin was pretty sure bumping into Gwen was the best thing that could’ve happened to him.

 

“Why are all of them wearing blue?” Arthur said, completely baffled. He was standing on a raised balcony overlooking the ballroom, framed by his parents. They were standing slightly too close to him, and Arthur assumed that they did it because they knew he’d run if given the chance. Looking at the rapidly filling room from this vantage point it reminded Arthur distinctly of that one time they’d gone to the South coast to swim when he’d been a child. The whole room was filled with women and girls all decked out in various shades of blue gowns.

“It’s teal,” Ygraine provided helpfully, “and I have absolutely no idea.”

“Was there a colour scheme to this ball that I was not aware of?” Uther muttered to Leon, who’d practically put the whole thing together on his own.

Leon shook his head.

Uther shrugged. “In any case, I believe it is time to open the ball. Arthur?”

Sighing, Arthur stepped forward, resting his hands on the banister. He did not even need the gesture to a servant to announce his intention of addressing the room, everyone stopped talking when they registered him standing there. He briefly looked over the assembled crowd, all the upturned faces in a sea of blue blurring past recognition.

“Dear guests – thank you for attending tonight’s ball. It is my pleasure to welcome you to the castle, and I hope you will have a magical night.”

From his corner in the room, already balancing a tray with champagne-filled glasses, Merlin compared the radiant Prince Arthur with the child he’d seen on a different balcony almost ten years ago.

“He’s pretty, isn’t he?” Gwen asked, eyes twinkling, Her midnight-blue gown was adorned with a million tiny stones, twinkling like stars in the candlelight.

“Oh, he’s passable.” Merlin grinned. “Why, you’re trying to make him fall in love with you?”

Gwen chuckled. “Oh no, not me. No, I’m already taken.” She held up her hand. There was a slim, understated ring twinkling merrily on her finger. “Spring marriage. He’s all yours.”

Merlin huffed a laugh and turned back to Prince Arthur. He _was_ indeed pretty. Merlin wouldn’t even contest someone calling him gorgeous. He had definitely grown up well.

Although, Merlin reflected as he made his way through the crowds in the corners of the room who were watching the king and queen opening the ball, handing out champagne left and right, he had definitely looked happier as a child.

That train of thought was abruptly cut off when he stumbled over the seam of a particularly elaborate dress.

“Oh fuck,” he exclaimed, barely catching himself by frantically windmilling his free arm. The hand upholding the tray with the champagne glasses shook, and he felt a splash of something cold on his sleeve. “I’m so sorry!”

When he turned around his heart froze in his chest.

“Well, you should be!” Vivian yelled, “This dress is new!” She had not looked at him yet. Gaius had really not thought that one through – no matter how carefully he’d brushed Merlin’s hair and scrubbed his face clean, Merlin had no doubt that Vivian would recognise him in a heartbeat.

When faced with the choice between possibly losing his (well, Gilli’s) job or having his step-sister recognise him, Merlin did what every sensible person would do: he turned tail and ran.

Well, not quite running. He was pretty sure running would draw attention. He very quickly walked out of the room, following one of the halls that were connected to the ballroom, and slipped into a random room through the first door he saw.

Once he had carefully closed it and carelessly dropped the tray on the floor, Merlin leant against the door and breathed out heavily.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to pick another room,” someone said, “I’m already hiding in this one.”

For the third time that night, Merlin flinched in surprise. He looked around hurriedly, taking in the room he had barged into – apparently designed with reclusive ballroom guests in mind, but far enough from the action to not be in need because no one wandered that far away from the ballroom. There were trays of snacks and beverages, as well as multiple chairs scattered about. In one of them, sprawled with his legs resting over the armrest, sat Prince Arthur, an empty glass of champagne dangling in his fingers. As Merlin watched, gaping, a single drop slowly rolled down the inside of the glass and dripped on the carpet.

“Can you do anything else except –” Prince Arthur gestured negligently towards Merlin, “stand there?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Merlin’s mouth said before his brain could convince it how much of a bad idea it was to sass the future king of Camelot, “Can you do anything except be rude?”

Arthur gaped back at him for a second before he rallied. “I would make a joke about pots and kettles here, but I’m not sure whether your brain is evolved enough to understand metaphors.”

“Oh, go ahead,” Merlin retorted, “I bet Camelot would breathe a sigh of relief to know that it’s future ruler was capable of saying anything except: _May I have this dance, my lady_ , and _More wine, Butler Jenkins_ .”

“You can’t talk to me like that.”

“I believe I just did.”

They stood there, staring at each other for a full minute before Merlin (his heart was beating out of his chest, what was wrong with him, Arthur’s eyes weren’t _that_ blue) broke eye contact and gestured to the room.

“Shouldn’t you be at the ball? You know, the one _you_ threw _yourself_ to find a wife on _your_ birthday, and I won’t even mention how narcissistic that whole concept is?”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth twitched. Merlin tried very hard not to notice. “I am the prince and this is my castle. I can go anywhere I like. Besides, my parents threw the ball, I’m just in no position to say no.”

Merlin lifted an eyebrow. He was not as good at it as Gaius was, but it still conveyed his disbelief. “I think that’s what’s called a contradiction.”

Arthur lifted his hands in a what-can-you-do gesture. “I might be the future king of Camelot, but you know parents.”

Merlin thought back to the blurry shape of his father riding away again and again, and the picture of his mother on the mantlepiece, until Nimueh had taken it and hidden it away. “No, not really,” he said before he could think better of it. “I’ll just trust your authority on the subject.”

Arthur blinked, face becoming serious. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No worries. We all have our burdens to bear, right?” Merlin thought about the several teal-clad ladies in the ballroom, their chattering and tittering and keen mothers who had almost shoved one of their daughters at Merlin while he had been handing out champagne because they were so eager for the prince to give them one smile.

The prince, Merlin noted with a racing heart, who was currently giving _Merlin_ of all people his severely fought-over smiles. Merlin turned towards one of the tall tables and took a tiny pastry to nibble on.

“Hey,” Merlin said, neatly arranging the rest of the little pastries into random shapes. “What do you think of teal?”

“Teal?” Arthur frowned.

“The colour.”

“Yes I _know that_ _teal is a colour thank you_.” Arthur shrugged and out of the corner of his eyes Merlin saw him crossing his legs. “Sort of blue-ish, right? I don’t know, it’s an alright colour, I guess, why?”

“Not your favourite?” Merlin had to bite his lip to try and avoid smiling.

“What? No, I don’t think so. I’ve always liked red a lot.”

Merlin made a show of looking around the room, taking in the red table cloths, Arthur’s red waistcoat and the red Camelot banners hanging down from the ceiling. “I’d never have guessed.”

Arthur huffed. “I wasn’t in charge of the decorating.”

“No, I guess when you’re in charge of a whole kingdom decorating isn’t really a major concern.”

Arthur shrugged. “You should see my father. Sometimes he can’t sleep at night because of the stress of leading a kingdom, but he still finds time to redecorate the throne room on a monthly basis.”

Merlin tried not to stare too obviously at Arthur. He apparently was obvious enough, though, since Arthur blushed (it looked good on him) and looked away. “Why am I telling you this.”

Desperate to diffuse the situation Merlin toppled over the pastry tower he’d been building, scattering flaky pastry all over the neat red tablecloth. “Must be my charm and roguish good looks.”

Arthur snorted very un-princelike. Merlin gave him an exaggerated wink.

Before he knew how it had happened, Merlin was giggling like a child with the Prince of Camelot.

He dared to come a little closer, dropping into a chair not too far from Arthur. If he’d wanted to, he could have poked his knee with his toe.

“Seriously though, why are you in here?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You’re not leaving?”

Merlin smirked. “You haven’t thrown me out yet. Come on, I gave you my sad orphan story, you have to give something back. It’s not fair otherwise.”

Arthur stretched out his leg and poked Merlin’s knee with the tip of his shoe. Merlin couldn’t help but notice that the lights from the chandeliers were reflected on the perfectly polished leather. “You didn’t give me a story, you just hinted at it.”

Merlin batted away Arthur’s foot. “Do you want the whole sad story?”

Arthur shrugged. “I still have at least two hours of this ball to avoid. Give it your best shot.”

An hour later, Merlin somehow found himself with his socked feet in Arthur’s lap, expounding on the difficulties of building a chicken coop. “You have to make sure they can’t jump over it or topple it from the inside, you know? I know chicken look like fun little feathery things, but they’re vicious. Also, anarchists. I’m pretty sure that one of ours is plotting to overthrow the monarchy, just a fair warning.”

Arthur flicked Merlin’s toe. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m on your side! Maybe I’ll side with the chicken once the day comes if you treat me like this, be nice to your informants!”

Arthur laughed quietly. Merlin opened his mouth to say something stupid, to make Arthur laugh like this again, but something about the way he was suddenly tracing the pattern on the armrest of his chair told Merlin that Arthur was about to turn the tone of the conversation around.

“Sometimes I think I’ll be a horrible king.”

And … wow, Merlin would make sure never to ignore his intuition again. It was obviously much better than he’d realised.

After a few seconds, during which Arthur studiously stared at Merlin’s frayed sock, Merlin determined that Arthur wouldn’t volunteer anything else and needed a bit of prodding.

“What makes you say that?”

Arthur shrugged. Then shook his head, shrugged again. “I don’t know,” he finally said, “it’s just – I see my father, and he’s so – so regal. And I try to be, I go to all my lessons, I help him out with state business, Geoffrey is currently teaching me the genealogy of the thirty most important families in Camelot and three foreign languages, but somehow…. I just feel like it’s not enough.”

He chanced a look at Merlin through his lashes but, when he realised Merlin was looking at him quickly looked downwards again. “I mean, what’s the use of all of that? I don’t know my subjects at all, what do I know about people? I mean, look at me, the biggest social event of the season and I’m hiding away with a servant!”

Merlin couldn’t help but smile. “It sounds raunchy when you put it like that.”

Arthur flicked his foot. “I’m being serious, here.”

Merlin took his feet back and tucked them underneath himself. “I know. But you don’t have to worry, I think. Or rather, that you’re worrying about this shows me that you have nothing to worry about.”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to lift a significant eyebrow. “You’re aware that you’re not making any sense, right?”

“No, listen,” Merlin said, “you’re worried that you won’t do right by the people, right?”

Arthur shrugged. “I guess. I mean I’m locked away in here most of the time on stately business, how can I know what they really want?”

Merlin smiled. “See?” Arthur’s facial expression told him that he didn’t, in fact, see. “You want to do right by them. That’s the most important part, and they will value that about you. Believe me, that kind of thing shows. The fact that you think about this so much tells me that you care about your people, and that will make you a good king. Maybe you just have to get out more.”

Arthur nodded slowly, but there was a small smile flitting over his face that told Merlin he’d said something right, somewhere in there. “Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

There was a brief moment of silence, during which Merlin could make out the music floating over from the ballroom. Arthur’s chair stood in front of a window that was ever so slightly opened, and the fresh night air waving in through the crack made Merlin feel alive in a way that he hadn’t in a long time.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way the candlelight played over Arthur’s skin, painting it a tentative gold.

Merlin flushed when he met Arthur’s eyes, realising he’d been caught staring.

“We could, you know,” Arthur said. His voice had a quality that Merlin hadn’t yet heard from him. “Make it raunchy.”

Merlin swallowed past the sudden dryness of his throat. “Are you propositioning me?”

Arthur very deliberately sat up straighter in his chair. “I’m trying, I think.”

“Well,” Merlin said flippantly, trying to push past the racing heart that was threatening to jump out of his ribcage, “I’ve never been propositioned by royalty before. Seems terribly rude to turn you down.”

“Terribly,” Arthur agreed. Then said: “You should probably come over here.”

Merlin untangled himself and stumbled towards Arthur, who was slowly reaching out to him. Merlin took Arthur’s hands in his. Both of them were slightly sweaty.

From up close, Arthur’s eyes were glinting in the candlelight, and Merlin could see how dilated his pupils were. And then he was closing his eyes and he could feel nothing but the softness of Arthur’s lips. How hot they were, and how they tasted ever so slightly of champagne.

 

Merlin didn’t know how long they kissed. At some point, Arthur had tugged Merlin into his lap, and since Merlin could feel Arthur’s slightly rough fingertips skating over his Adam’s apple, he apparently had loosened Merlin’s necktie without him noticing.

Arthur broke their kiss to lean in and suck lightly at the now bared skin of Merlin’s neck, who tried very hard not to show how much it affected him.

“Arthur– I’m not sure if this is the right place to–”

Arthur paid him no heed, instead moving on to nibble on his ear. Merlin clung to Arthur’s shoulders as if they were a lifeline.

“Who cares?” Arthur muttered, and pressed another kiss to Merlin’s lips. This one was softer, more gentle, and Merlin was already closing his eyes again when he saw three figures in teal walking past the window, looking dejected.

“Shit!” Merlin flailed, almost tumbling off Arthur’s lap. Arthur reacted fast, holding Merlin’s waist with a firm grip. “I have to go!”

“What?” Arthur was a sight to behold. His golden hair was tousled, lips and cheeks flushed. His pupils were dilated. He seemed confused.

Merlin grabbed his jacket and jumped to his feet, racing towards the door. “So sorry, really nice to meet you though! And also nice to – you know! Yeah, bye!”

Arthur blinked rapidly and got to his feet, too, following after Merlin. “Wait! Where are you going? I don’t even know your name!”

The slightly plaintive note in his voice almost broke Merlin’s heart. But he knew that telling Arthur his name would only spell trouble.

“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it. On an impulse he darted back and wrapped his arms around Arthur, squeezing him tight for barely a second. Before Arthur’s arms could even come up to hug him back, Merlin had let go and was stepping backwards.

“You’re a great man, Arthur, and I have no doubt you’ll be a great king one day. Queen or no queen.”

“Wait–”

But Merlin didn’t wait. Bizarrely, he could feel tears stinging in his eyes already and he swallowed heavily. “Bye Arthur.”

“Is that really everything you’ll say to me?”

Already at the door, Merlin turned back around once more. Arthur was standing in the middle of the room, his arms hanging uselessly to his sides. His shirt was wrinkled, his waistcoat unbottoned and his necktie was a mess. He looked like someone had had their wicked way with them, and Merlin couldn’t deny his body’s reaction to that image.

Arthur, also, looked very sad.

Merlin took a deep breath and opened his mouth. He had no idea what he intended to say. Something profound, maybe, something that told Arthur just how special this one night had been to Merlin, and how he’d probably never forget it.

“Your security is shit,” Merlin said, then he turned around and walked through the hallway back towards the ballroom. He got faster with every step he was taking, the horror of Nimueh noticing his absence speeding up his journey. By the time he reached the huge double doors, propped open to admit the night chill as a relief for the flushed couples inside, Merlin was sprinting.

 

Arthur was moping in one of their living rooms when his parents found him the morning after the ball.

“Did you find someone?”

Arthur jerked and blinked up at his father. King Uther looked stern and foreboding in his full regalia, but when he saw the lost look on his son’s face his frown softened.

“Arthur?”

Arthur shrugged and made a hand gesture that, frankly, could have meant anything.

“Uh huh,” his father said. “How about that Vivian girl? You danced with her quite a bit.”

“Two dances isn’t _quite a bit_ .”

“It is when you spent the rest of the night hidden away somewhere instead of dancing with the other girls. Where did you go?”

Arthur shrugged.

“Uh huh,” his father said again, as if he understood something Arthur had not understood yet.

“Would you stop that? Stop pretending like you’re omniscient, I know you’re not, I know Geoffrey whispers the names of the visiting dignitaries in your ear so you don’t embarrass yourself by forgetting their names.”

“Ygrain, my love?” Uther called and pulled up an armchair to sit near his son, “would you come in here for a second? Your son’s got an _attitude_ .”

Arthur spluttered and pulled up his legs, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I have no such thing.”

Ygraine breezed into the room in her robe, hair still down. She took one look at her husband and son, the latter busying himself by finding increasingly complicated positions to sit in that made him look as small as possible and breezed right back out again.

It only took her a minute and she was back, carefully setting a tray with three glasses of wine on the small table next to Uther’s armchair. Then she pulled up her own chair, closer to Arthur’s, and handed him a glass. “I know it's morning, but I had the feeling this was a wine conversation,” she said and took up her own glass, “so, Arthur, what’s this about an attitude I’m hearing?”

Arthur sighed but stayed quiet.

Ygraine took his hand. He couldn’t help but look up at that. “You can be honest with me, love. With both of us. You know that.”

Arthur looked at his father, who was desperately trying not to show how uncomfortable this talk was making him. When he noticed Arthur’s eyes on him, Uther gave him his best supportive look.

“Certainly, Arthur.”

Arthur picked at his fingernails. He really had to cut them again. “This isn’t something like accidentally breaking the living room window, though. What if you won’t like what I’ll tell you?”

Uther and Ygraine exchanged a look. She lifted her eyebrows and he took a deep breath.

“Then we’ll deal with it. But we will still love you just the same.”

Arthur nodded slowly to himself, untangling himself from his mother’s grasp to grip the stem of the wineglass tight. He took a fortifying gulp of wine.

“I might actually have met someone,” he started, “But it’s not a girl of noble birth. It’s,” he cleared his throat, “he’s not even a girl.”

Ygraine and Uther exchanged another look. She smiled. “Tell us from the beginning?”

So Arthur told them.

When he was done, his parents smiled at him in unison. It was slightly disconcerting, Arthur found, and sunk deeper into his armchair. He had expected yelling, maybe, or at least some disappointed looks. His parents looked completely unconcerned.

Well, his mother did. His father looked slightly constipated, but Arthur had learnt early on that that was his usual look.

“Well, it seems like there is only thing to do now,” Ygraine said, carefully sipping on her wine. “You have to find him.”

“You’re – you’re okay with this?” Arthur couldn’t help but ask. “This isn’t what you expected when you set up this ball, I know that.”

Uther shrugged, an utterly foreign gesture on him. “Well, we can’t control every aspect of your life. And besides, I knew that marrying you off to a nice young lady might be a little complicated since you followed that gardener around when you were fifteen. You know, that hooligan who always went shirtless?”

Arthur smirked. “Gwaine. I liked him.”

Ygraine chuckled. “Oh believe me sweetie, we could tell.”

Before this moment, Arthur had been sure that this conversation could not have gotten anymore uncomfortable. He did not like to be proven wrong.

His father seemed to be just as uncomfortable as he was. “In any case,” he said, “What do you intend to do about this young man of yours?”

Arthur started picking at his fingernails again. “He’s not _my_ anything.”

“But do you want him to be, love? If you do, you’ll have to go look for him. It’s not enough to be born a prince, you know. You have to act like it. Hiding away in your room when things get tough won’t make you a king.”

 

Arthur spent the night tossing and turning. On the one hand, his mother was right. On the other, the boy had just run away in the middle of their kiss. Wasn’t that a clear sign?

On the other hand, there _had_ been the kiss. Or better, kisses? That definitely had been more than one kiss. And then there was the talk before that.

But what if he didn’t want to see Arthur again?

Maybe he just liked to sneak into balls and kiss random princes. Maybe that as a thing he did. Maybe he was like Gwaine that way.

Although Gwaine had never snuck into balls. He just went around kissing a lot of other men without it ever meaning anything.

But then, that boy was different than Gwaine. For one, his eyes were a lot prettier.

His neck, too.

Arthur didn’t know about his chest, but he’d just have to find out about that–

He was digressing again.

“Focus,” he whispered to himself in the dark, and spent the next several hours neither focussing nor sleeping, instead drifting in and out of hazy thoughts about the boy's hair, his smile, the way he smelled like smoke and flowers, the way he had seemed to understand Arthur better than anyone else.

 

It was when Arthur found out the next day that the boy he had been spent hours kissing last night was not actually working as a servant in the palace and that he had been replaced by a small guy named Gilli that he realised he was really in trouble.

 

Merlin was being very busy Not Thinking About It. Not Thinking About It involved, among other things, cleaning every surface available in the house, polishing all of Nimueh’s jewellery and getting up at five every morning to feed the chickens.

Unfortunately, Not Thinking About It was a project that required cooperation by every party involved and apparently, Gaius had not gotten the hint.

Or the door Merlin slammed in his face the first time he had insisted on discussing what had happened at the ball.

“You will need to talk about it at some point,” Gaius told him three days after the Thing He Was Not Thinking About. He was leaning on the window sill outside the kitchen window, which put him at a disadvantage for a conversation, since he couldn’t see Merlin if Merlin stood by the stove. A fact which Merlin knew very well and was taking full advantage of.

“Talk about what?

“The ball? The fact that you came back completely disheveled and out of breath, and might I add, missing your necktie?”

“So?” Merlin spun around and got out the pans as noisily as possible, “I had to run. I’m bad at running, you know that.”

“I also know that you’re bad at lying.”

Merlin loved Gaius, really, he did, but he was so not talking to Gaius about this for a multitude of reasons. “I’m not talking to you about this.”

Gaius huffed. “Fine. Have it your way. But you should know that Prince Arthur announced that he is looking for a mystery guest he met at the ball. It’s most curious, it seems all he has to go by is that the boy – it is a boy, you know, has the kingdom all aflutter – is about your height, with about your hair, and it seems Arthur still has your neckerchief that he somehow got from the boy. Lord knows how he dropped _that_ .”

One of the reasons, Merlin reflected, face burning, that he wasn’t talking to Gaius about this was that it was dangerously close to discussing his sex life with a parent. Not that Gaius was his parent. And not that he had a sex-life. He obviously hadn’t.

Just, it was very close to discussions of his sex life.

Merlin dropped the heaviest pan on the stove with a bang and tried very hard not to think sex-thoughts.

Gaius was oblivious to his inner monologue. “Now, either Arthur met a boy who was disturbingly like you, Merlin, it seems to me that he actually met _you_ .”

Merlin whirled around to the window. “Nope, not talking about this sorry, gotta go make breakfast.” Then he firmly shut the window in Gaius face.

Gaius lifted a judgemental eyebrow. Merlin pulled the curtains shut for good measure.

He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the stone that seemed to weigh on his heart these days. Arthur might be looking for him (and yes, there were some butterflies at that thought) but in the end Arthur was a future King and Merlin? Merlin was a nobody.

So Merlin made breakfast, swept the hallway, and spent the whole day determinedly Not Thinking About It.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Vivian told him the next morning.

Merlin blinked at her from his position on his bed. “I know. You tell me so on a regular basis. Though usually you don’t come into my room just to tell me that.”

Vivian shook her blonde hair. “No. People always tell _me_ I’m stupid, but you definitely take the cake.”

Merlin debated sitting up for this conversation, but he decided it probably wasn’t worth it. He had just finished making breakfast and had been under the impression that everyone had left to do some shopping. Apparently, though, he had been wrong.

“Shouldn’t you be shopping?”

Vivian rolled her eyes. “Nevermind what _I_ should be doing. Let’s talk about _you_ .” She stressed this order by pointing at Merlin.

Merlin’s neck was starting to hurt. He decided this was probably going to take a little longer and sat up. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“Good. It’s simple: quit moping and get dressed, Prince Arthur is coming.”

Merlin stared at her. “Sorry I’m not following you.”

Vivian threw her hands in the air. “This is why I tell everyone you’re an idiot! I don’t see the issue, but since you have been moping for four days and are showing no sign of stopping, I decided I had to – once again – take matters into my own hands. I don’t like to do this, you know. Doing you a favour makes my skin crawl.”

She stepped over some of his clothes that were haphazardly strewn over his floor towards his wardrobe. Tugging open the doors and simultaneously tossing a strand of her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder, she said: “Your sense of fashion is _atrocious_ , you’re an absolute idiot and you smell like smoke all the time, but if the Prince of Camelot has for some reason decided he wants to ride off into the sunset with you, I’ll not be the one to stop him. Teal isn’t my colour anyway.”

Very slowly it was dawning on Merlin what on earth she was on about. “You recognised me that night.”

She turned around just to roll her eyes at him again. “Of course I did. I also saw you disappear into the very same room Prince Arthur had just snuck into. You’re not very subtle. Here, wear this.” She tossed a shirt at him. It was one of his many blue ones, but less frayed than the others.

Merlin caught it with some fumbling and, failing to think of an appropriate reaction to the bizarreness of this situation, pulled it over his head. “Why are you helping me.”

Vivian made a disgusted sound and slammed the wardrobe doors shut. “Heaven knows. This is the last time I’ll do it, though. I don’t expect you’ll need any more help once you’re dating the Crown Prince. Though, knowing your stupidity, you’ll manage to mess it up in two days.”

She swept out of the room. “Be in mother’s sitting room in half an hour. And do something about that hair!”

Merlin was left behind, feeling very much like a tornado had just twirled its way into his room.

 

Merlin spent the next twenty-eight minutes panicking about Arthur arriving, panicking about the looks of his hair, second-guessing whether he shouldn’t just run away, replaying the kiss in front of his inner eye to remind himself that _something_ had been going on there that night, then desperately fighting a boner, obsessively checking his teeth and wondering whether it would be considered overdramatic to climb out of his window and run away screaming

Thirty minutes after Vivian had left him in a state of confusion, Merlin was pacing up and down the length of Nimueh’s sitting room.

Thirty-five minutes after Vivian’s confusing departure, the door to the room opened to reveal Arthur.

Merlin stopped in his tracks. Arthur did as well, one hand still raised and lightly resting on the doorknob.

Neither one said a word.

“Hi,” Arthur ventured, after a few minutes.

“Hi.”

Arthur stared at him, then suddenly seemed to realise the position he was in – still standing in the doorway, one hand raised – and dropped his arm and stepped forward.

“This is weird,” Arthur proclaimed after another short silence, “I feel like I know you but I don’t even know your name. Also, your shirt’s inside out.”

Merlin’s eyes darted downwards and he cursed when he spotted the very noticeable seams running along his sides.

Arthur laughed.

“I was a little distracted,” Merlin allowed, scratching the back of his neck, “Vivian only just now told me you were coming. I didn’t even know she–” he gestured around, “you know.”

Arthur stepped a little closer, until they were within touching distance once more. “Hm. I have to admit I was a little confused when she arrived at the castle, demanded to see me, roundly insulted all of our staff, flirted with my father _and_ Leon and then told me you were here. But I thought I’d give it a shot.”

So close to Arthur again, all of Merlin’s doubts seemed ridiculous all of a sudden. “I’m glad you did,” he admitted.

Arthur’s bright answering smile told him it had been the right thing to say.

They stared at each other for a few seconds again. Merlin could make out a slight blush on Arthur’s face, and it both calmed and excited him.

“Listen,” Arthur said eventually, balancing on his tiptoes before sinking down on the soles of his feet just to start the process all over again. “I can’t marry you. Not yet. And to be honest, I don’t know you that well.”

“Also, I’m a man,” Merlin helpfully pointed out, “Not really that convenient for continuing the family line and all that. I don’t have childbearing hips.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, that. Would you be quiet? I’m trying to be romantic here. Or, well, something like it.”

“Oooooh,” Merlin said, his grin taking over his face without permission again, “Something like romance! I am all aflutter, show me what you got.”

Arthur grinned. “Not quite what I had in mind, especially not in your step-mother’s room. We’ll save that for later.”

Merlin choked on air and Arthur’s grin only got bigger. He was really unfairly handsome.

“Anyway, like I said,” Arthur went on, “I can’t marry you yet. But I do want to get to know you a little better. And, well, someone told me that I should get out more.”

Merlin bit his bottom lip in an attempt to keep his smile at bay. It was not even moderately successful, but, he guessed, from Arthur’s look and the way his eyes darted downwards to Merlin’s mouth, it had other advantages. When Arthur seemed to have entirely lost track, mouth slightly open but definitely not forming words, instead inching progressively closer to Merlin’s, Merlin took a decisive step backwards. “Soooo...?”

Arthur rallied himself and managed to look Merlin in the eye. They were impossibly close, Merlin could smell Arthur on every breath he took. “So, I was wondering,” Arthur whispered, “would you like to go out with me, sometime?”

Merlin smiled. “I’d love to, Sire.”

Then he allowed Arthur to finally kiss him. The poor boy was so distracted otherwise, and Merlin was just too kind to have him suffer through that.

When they pulled apart quite some time later, Arthur looked very thoroughly kissed.

“You should hold meetings like this,” Merlin said, tracing Arthur’s bottom lip with his thumb, “I bet your council would love that.”

Arthur laughed and kissed Merlin’s nose. Then suddenly, he seemed to remember something.

“I still have your necktie.” Arthur dangled the torn piece of red cloth in front of Merlin, who simply grinned back. Instead of taking it, he dug into his pocket and took out his newest purchase. It had been surprisingly heavy on his purse, which was already permanently empty, but it had been worth the look on Arthur’s face.

“Oh that’s _very sweet_ of you, Your Highness, but I’ve got a new one already.” Merlin dangled the bright blue piece of cloth in front of Arthur’s face. No wonder it wasn’t his favorite color, he probably looked like a peacock in it. “Do you like it? It’s teal.”

Arthur choked on a laugh. “You’re horrible.”

Merlin kissed him, just because he could. What he had intended to be a quick peck on the lips almost evolved into full-on snogging, and it took him some time until he could untangle himself from Arthur again. When he did, he tied the piece of cloth around his neck and beamed at Arthur.

“Well, what do you know,” Arthur said, taking a hold of the corner of the tie and already pulling Merlin in for another kiss, “I believe teal just became my favorite colour.”


End file.
